Real Murders

"You're right," Bankston agreed. He gave her the golf club, and she swung it through the air experimentally while he searched his pockets. In her black slacks and green sweater and knotted scarf she looked ready to tee off at the country club. In that small area the club whistled past me with no room to spare, and I started to protest, when I realized yet again that Melanie absolutely could not care less. Old assumptions die hard. I saw a foot on the stairs behind them.

"Give me your scarf, Mel," Bankston said suddenly. Melanie unknotted it instantly. "This would be less messy, and I've never done it before," he observed cheerfully. They never looked at me or at Phillip, except in passing, and I could tell to them we were not people like they were. The foot was joined by a matching foot, and silently took another step down. "Maybe I should tape this," Melanie said brightly. "It won't be what we had pla

The next step squeaked, and I screamed, "God damn you to hell! How can you do this to me? How can you do this to a little boy?" They were as shocked as though a chair had spoken. Melanie swung the club instantly with both hands. My body was covering Phillip's on the chair, but the blow was so strong the chair was rocked. It was easy to shriek as loud as a freight train. I saw the feet descend all the way in a rush. "Shut up, bitch!" Melanie said furiously.

"Naw, you shut up," a flat voice advised her.

It was old Mr. Crandall, and he was carrying a very large gun. The only sound in the basement was the sobbing coming from me, as I struggled to control myself. Phillip raised his bound wrists to loop his arms over my head. I wished more than ever that he'd faint.

"You're not going to shoot," Bankston said. "You old idiot. With this concrete floor, it'll ricochet and hit them."

"I'd rather shoot them directly than leave them to you," Mr. Crandall said simply.

"Which one of us will you shoot first?" Melanie asked furiously. She'd been sidling away from Bankston a little at a time. "You can't get us both, old man." "But I can," said Robin from higher on the stairs, and he wasn't nearly as calm as Mr. Crandall. I managed to look up. I saw Robin descending with a shotgun. "Now I don't know as much about guns as Mr. Crandall, but he loaded this for me, and if I point it and fire I am real sure I will hit something." If they tried anything desperate it would be now. I could feel the turmoil pouring from them. They looked at each other. I could only stare through a haze of pain at the green silk scarf in Bankston's hand. Oh, surely they must see it was over, over.

Suddenly the fight oozed out of them. They looked like what they used to be, for a moment; a bank loan officer and a secretary, who could not remember where they were or how they had come to be there. The scarf fell from Bankston's hand. Melanie lay down the golf club. They did not look at each other anymore. There was a gust of people noise, and Arthur and Ly

Phillip's breath came out from behind the gag in a deep sigh, and he fainted. It seemed like such a good idea that I did it, too.

Chapter 17

"If I'd had my Dynamite Man Particle Blaster they wouldn't have hurt us," Phillip whispered. He simply would not be parted from me while I was being patched up. He held on to my hand or my leg or my torso; though many kind people offered to take him and rock him, or buy him an ice cream cone, or color with him, my little brother would not be separated from me. This definitely made it harder on me, but I tried to have so much sympathy for Phillip that the pain would not seem important. I'm afraid I found that to me, pain is very important, no matter who else has been hurt.

Now he was actually in the hospital bed with me, huddling as close to me as he could get, his eyes still wide and staring, but begi

Robin, bless him, had found their phone number and called, miraculously catching them in their motel room.

"Phillip, if I hadn't had you to hold on to, I would have gone nuts," I assured him. "You were so brave. I know you were scared inside, like I was, but you were brave as a lion to hold yourself together."

"I was thinking about escaping all the time. I was just waiting for a chance," he informed me. There, he was begi

"Yes," I said, and took a deep breath. "Yes, they were really bad people. They were rotten apples. They were nice on the outside but full of worms on the inside."

"But they're locked up in jail now?"

"You bet." I thought about lawyers and bail and I shivered. Surely not? "They can't ever get you again. They can't ever hurt anybody again. They're far away and all locked up, and your mom and dad will carry you home even further away from them."

"When are they go

"Thanks, Aurora," he said. "If you need help yourself, you know how to reach us." But they were dying to get Phillip away, and his voice verged on perfunctory. I was a grownup, right? I could take care of myself. Or my mother would take care of me. I let myself have a flash of bitterness, and made myself swallow it. He was not being careful of me, but he was right. I drifted off to sleep for a second. Robin was holding my hand when I woke up. I think he had kissed me.